Mallory And Ron Meet The Neighbors
by Red Witch
Summary: It's so hard meeting new people.


**Mallory must have taken the disclaimer saying I don't own any Archer characters. Classic her. Anyway here's some more madness I came up with while waiting for the new season of Archer.**

 **Mallory and Ron Meet The Neighbors **

"You will not **believe** what stupid thing those morons did today!" Mallory snapped as she stormed into her home.

"I take it you're referring to the people at work?" Ron sighed as he put down his paper. He was sitting in the living room relaxing.

"Do you know any **other morons** we associate with?" Mallory asked. "And as soon as the words left my mouth…All right I see your point…"

"Yeah like those hoity toity snobs you used to hang around with were brain surgeons," Ron snorted.

"Yes, well I agree with you on **that sentiment** ," Mallory sniffed.

"Those CIA maniacs you used to run with weren't exactly completely on the ball either," Ron added. "With those cockamamie plots of theirs."

"Well yes…"

"That nutcase cardinal that wanted to kill the Pope."

"We haven't been together for decades!"

"That weird butler you had that watched Sterling," Ron added. "Who's been missing for what? Two years now?"

"All right! I **get it!"** Mallory snapped. "We know a lot of weird idiots!"

"Granted the people you work with are in the top one percent of weirdness," Ron sighed. "So what did they do **this time?"**

"Let's just say Krieger raised the bar even higher than his usual standards," Mallory groaned. "It has to do with robots. Don't ask…"

"I don't think I will," Ron winced. "Speaking of asking, guess who called today?"

"I don't suppose it's too much to hope for that it was the CIA or someone important with a job?" Mallory sighed as she went to get a drink.

"No," Ron said. "But two people called today. The first one was that friend of yours from New York. Gladys Vanderhoffen."

"That **bitch?** " Mallory snarled. "What did she want?"

"She wanted to call and know how you were doing."

"She wanted gossip on me, **that's** what she was doing!" Mallory snapped. "That woman practically **lives** in Trudy Beekman's lap! What did you say? You didn't say anything about me getting arrested, did you?"

"Of course not!" Ron snapped. "That's not exactly something I'd want people to know about either!"

"You didn't say anything about my business going through a rough patch did you?"

"Honey, Sears is going through a rough patch," Ron gave her a look. "Your agency is a disaster. And no I didn't say anything about **that** either."

"Well what the hell did you say?"

"If you'd stop flapping your yap for five seconds I'll **tell ya**!" Ron snapped. "I told her you were doing well. That your new office was very busy and you're spending lots of time with your new grandchild. In other words, I lied through my _teeth!_ "

"Good!" Mallory said. "The last thing I need is that vulture reporting about another one of my slight social failures to that bitch Beekman and her cronies."

" **Slight** social failures?" Ron gave her a look. "HA!"

"Don't start with me Ron," Mallory warned.

"Mallory in the eight months we've been here you've been kicked out of at least three restaurants," Ron counted off. "A hotel, a mall, a grocery store and a block party."

"That butcher was overcharging me and you know it!"

"So that gives you the right to threaten him with a meat cleaver?" Ron asked.

"Some people can't take a joke," Mallory shrugged.

"You've been arrested, held hostage and beaten up by bean bags," Ron went on. "Your agency is losing money faster than the entire retail industry. And at the rate you're going **this agency** is going to close like your other one."

"And your point is?" Mallory asked icily.

"I just don't get why you simply don't just walk away before something really bad happens!" Ron said.

"Oh no **this** again!" Mallory groaned.

"Yes, this **again**!" Ron snapped. "Babe you don't need to keep doing these crazy get rich quick schemes. I have enough money for the both of us. That is if you don't spend it all throwing it away on that so-called agency you run!"

"Ron we've talked about this…"

"And we're gonna keep talking about this until you see some sense!" Ron told her.

"You said **two people** called," Mallory thought it was time to change the subject. "Who was the second?"

"Our new neighbors," Ron said. "Emily Delmont. She and her husband Patrick are coming over for dinner tomorrow night."

"Who the hell are Emily and Patrick Delmont?"

"Our neighbors. The people who moved in next door a few days ago!" Ron snapped. "I told you about them!"

"So you just invited a couple of strangers to show up and mooch food off of us?"

"They're bringing the food!" Ron rolled his eyes. "And I said yes!"

"You said yes to a couple of strangers I never met?" Mallory snapped. "Why don't you just put up a sign saying: Here Robbers, take everything!"

"You are so suspicious of everyone!"

"Hello! Former spy!" Mallory snapped. "I didn't live this long trusting people!"

"Look it's a free dinner and we get to mingle with some **normal people** for a change!" Ron snapped. "Let's face it doll, it wouldn't hurt if you changed up your social circle."

"What do they do?" Mallory asked.

"He's a retired investment banker," Ron said. "And she used to work in Washington DC as a lobbyist for the NRA a long time ago. Their son is a lawyer in DC. They moved here to get away from politics."

"Huh…" Mallory thought. "Well I guess it couldn't hurt to meet them. An investment banker and an NRA lobbyist? Hmmmm…That might come in useful."

"Before you start scheming I'd just like to lay down a few ground rules," Ron said. "Obviously, I don't want these people to know what you **used** to do. And I don't want you plugging your office to them."

"Reasonable," Mallory waved. "At least for now."

"And don't insult them!" Ron snapped. "I don't want this to be a repeat of the block party when we first moved in!"

"That was not my fault," Mallory protested.

"It was completely your fault!" Ron snapped.

"Look the food was sub-par and I will not apologize for saying it," Mallory told him.

"You didn't have to say it tasted like something that your dog used to throw up!" Ron shouted. "And what possessed you to make those comments about teachers? Half the block used to be teachers! Or in the education field."

"There is a liberal agenda to make students stupid so they can collect welfare so Democrats can collect more money for their party as well as get more power in government!" Mallory snapped.

"Calling them Communists in drag was a bit excessive even for me!" Ron snapped. "And what the hell was that comment about breeding about?"

"I was just pointing out that people born into a certain class in society have a certain grace and manners that can't be taught," Mallory said.

"Well you certainly proved **something** about people born into so called high society," Ron grumbled.

"Some people have good breeding, others don't," Mallory sniffed.

"Interesting choice of words," Ron gave Mallory a look. "Especially from a woman who has **no idea** who the father of her son is!"

"I do so have an idea!" Mallory snapped. "I've narrowed it down to three or four people. Of course, you didn't have to mention **that** to everyone at the party!"

"It was a disaster. To this day the Hendersons down the street won't speak to us," Ron groaned.

"No big loss," Mallory scoffed. "Mrs. Henderson is a pill."

"And you wonder why you weren't accepted at that country club," Ron shook his head.

"How was I supposed to know that bitch was on the admittance board?" Mallory snapped.

"Maybe if you stopped insulting people and listened to them you would have known that?" Ron snapped. "I don't want you to make the same mistake tomorrow night. Unlike you who seems to thrive on antagonizing everyone she meets, some of us actually **like** making friends!"

"I do not antagonize everyone I meet!" Mallory protested.

"Oh right," Ron scoffed. "I forgot about all your ex-boyfriends back in New York!"

"Let's not go into **that** again!" Mallory groaned. "Although I must admit you do have a point. I do need more contacts and friends."

"Then please be on your best behavior and try to get along with these people!" Ron told her. "They seem nice. And for God's sake don't bring Sterling or any of your employees to this."

"Now why would…?" Mallory began. "No wait, again you have a **point."**

The following night…

"And that's when the prostitute walks right by and says to Jim, 'See what you get for two dollars'?" Patrick Delmont finished the joke. He was a medium heavyset man in his sixties with a boyish face wearing a casual brown suit without the tie.

Everyone at the dinner table laughed. Emily Delmont was a pleasant looking white haired older woman with a birdlike figure and a stylish blue dress. "I always loved that joke!" She twittered.

"Me too," Mallory laughed.

"I'm so glad we finally met," Emily grinned at Mallory. "I mean it's hard to find people of our sort, isn't it?"

"Exactly," Mallory admitted. "Ugh you have no idea what I have to put up with at my office."

"I can imagine," Patrick said. "So glad I'm retired."

"And I'm glad you brought the food," Ron said. "I'm starving. You sure you don't need any help in the kitchen?"

"No, no, no!" Patrick said as he and Emily got up. "We've got this! It's just reheating. You just sit and relax."

"We'll bring it to you," Emily said as they went into the kitchen.

"Well they seem nice I'll give you that," Mallory admitted when they were alone.

"See what happens when you give people a chance?" Ron smirked.

"I guess," Mallory admitted. "But there's something about them…Patrick looks familiar to me. I feel like I've seen him before."

"Dinner's ready!" Emily twittered as she put out some brightly colored bowls. "All heated up and ready to eat!"

"Who brings a homemade three course meal that isn't a chef?" Mallory thought to herself. Something wasn't right.

 _Our sort doesn't cook_ , Mallory thought again as she prepared to eat. _Unless the servants are on strike for more than a week. And even then, we usually replace them. And why did they insist on reheating the food in our kitchen? Something is off here…_

"It looks delicious," Mallory looked at her bowl. "What is it?"

"Irish stew," Emily grinned. "Bon Appetit!"

"Irish…Wait…" Something clicked in Mallory's mind when she noticed that neither Emily nor Patrick had started eating.

But Ron was about to take a huge bite.

Mallory slapped the spoon out of his hand and shoved the bowl to the floor. "Hey!" Ron barked. "I was going to eat that!"

"Well unless you really wanted a belly full of poison I just saved your ass!" Mallory shouted.

"Mallory for the last time," Ron groaned. "Not all Irish food is bad! Actually there's a lot of great cooking now in Ireland…"

"Told you she'd figure it out!" Emily snapped at Patrick. Her voice seemed to change into an Irish accent. "Even a senile old bat like this would know that old trick!"

"It doesn't matter anyway," Patrick growled. "We'll just go to Plan B."

"There wouldn't have been a need for Plan B if you'd just let me take care of this like you were supposed to!" Emily snarled.

"What's going on?" Ron asked. "Delmont what is all this?"

"It's not Delmont," Patrick appeared to reach for something under the table. "It's **Delaney!** "

"Delaney…I **know** that name," Mallory realized something. "Where do I? Oh sh…."

Mallory barely had time to yank Ron out of the way before Patrick and Emily pulled out their weapons and started to open fire.

"See what happens when you give people **a chance**?" Mallory snarled as she managed to grab her purse and drag Ron into the living room. "A chance to blow our brains out!"

"You've got this coming Archer!" Patrick shouted as he and Emily followed them into the living room weapons drawn. "It's bad enough you slept with my father and gave him the clap but having him killed? That's going too far bitch!"

"Wait **what?** " Ron did a double take. " **What** did he say?"

"Uhhhh…." Mallory blinked. "DUCK!"

They dove behind a large couch as Patrick and Emily opened fire. "Are you telling me this guy is the son of one of your boyfriends?" Ron shouted. "And what's this about the clap?"

"Thanks a lot blabbermouth!" Mallory shouted as she managed to pull out her gun from her purse. She fired a few rounds forcing Patrick and Emily to pull back behind some other furniture.

"Seriously! Explain this clap thing!" Ron snapped.

"Ron it was a long time ago!" Mallory snapped. "Trust me, if I still had it so would **you**! And I got it from his loser father!"

"That's not what he said!" Patrick fired off a round.

"Oh yeah," Mallory drawled. "Like your father was Mr. Truthful!"

"You're going to be Mrs. Dead in a minute!" Patrick snapped.

"Well there's no need for **this** then!" Emily pulled at her face. It revealed she was wearing a latex mask and underneath was a thirty something woman with short red hair. "That thing was giving me real wrinkles!" She shot a round which was barely heard because her weapon had a silencer on it.

"So unprofessional," Patrick grumbled as he fired another shot but missed.

"Oh don't **you** start with that!" Emily snarled.

"What's with all this gunfire?" Ron shouted. "You know someone will hear this and call the cops!"

"Well Ron that's where the silencer on my weapon comes in!" Mallory snapped as she put it on.

"Oh right," Patrick realized. He grabbed for his silencer and put it on. "Almost forgot!"

"I can't believe I almost **fell** for it!" Mallory groaned as they hid behind the couch. "The Let's Pretend to be Neighbors and Bring Over Poisoned Dinner' routine is one of the oldest assassination tricks in the book! Boy, you get out of the spy game for a few months and your edge really goes to hell!"

"Don't worry," Emily snarled as she reloaded. "You won't have much longer to worry about **that.** "

"Don't forget to use your silencer," Patrick said.

"Yes, I **know**!" Emily snapped. "I have it **on already**! I've been killing people for years! I think I **know** what I'm doing!"

"Oh God!" Ron groaned as he cringed behind the couch. "This is a work thing isn't it?"

"No, this is a **revenge** thing!" Patrick snarled. "Her son murdered my father! Now I'm going to even the score!"

"Technically I'm only the stepfather," Ron gulped. "So…"

"We're going to murder both you and your wife," Patrick explained. "That will show my brother that I have the guts to run the organization!"

"Let me guess," Mallory sighed. "Your older brother muscled you out of the operation when your father died."

"Younger actually," Patrick grumbled.

"Well that's gotta hurt," Mallory remarked.

"You have no idea," Patrick grumbled. "But killing you and then your idiot son and that black harlot of his…That will get me back on top!"

"In your **dreams!** " Mallory snapped. "Let me guess, Emily. That's why he insisted on coming with you wasn't it? That stupid dinner was **his idea!** Am I right?"

"You always have to micromanage things!" Emily snarled at Patrick. "They'd be dead by now if you just let me do this on my own!"

"This isn't about micromanagement!" Patrick snarled. "This is about revenge!"

"Your father was murdered years ago!" Emily snapped. "It took you **this long** to get around to it?"

"Revenge is a tricky thing okay?" Patrick snapped. "Sometimes it takes years to pull it off!"

"Or decades," Mallory conceded.

"See?" Patrick pointed to Mallory with his gun. "She gets it!"

"That's the **point** of this whole mission!" Emily fired off a round but it only hit the couch. "What the hell is that couch made of? Granite?"

"I knew that thing was too hard to sit on…" Ron remarked.

"But now you're glad I insisted on it!" Mallory snapped.

"I didn't know you bought it for cover!" Ron shouted.

"Actually, it was more of a status thing," Mallory fired off a shot then ducked back down. "But I must admit the coverage this thing gives is better than average."

"They should put that in the brochure," Ron groaned.

"Look we should flank her," Emily told Patrick. "You go on the left and I go to the right."

"How about I go to the right and you go to the left?" Patrick snapped.

"Because you're on **the left!"** Emily snapped. "Stop trying to undermine me!"

"I am the boss here!" Patrick snapped. "You do what I say!"

"I am the professional!" Emily shouted. "You do what **I say**!"

"Look without me you wouldn't be able to take them down!" Patrick snapped. "We'll do my plan!"

"Oh please!" Emily snapped. "How hard is it to assassinate a car dealer and a washed up old has been?"

 **"What?"** Mallory snarled. " **What** did you call me?"

"I called you a washed up old has been," Emily taunted. "You pathetic…"

That did it.

ZIP! ZIP!

With a speed beyond her years Mallory moved out from the cover of the couch and managed to shoot both Patrick and Emily. Emily was shot in the brain and Patrick was killed with a hit to the heart. They both fell to the floor with some very surprised looks on their faces.

Mallory looked at the corpses. "Who's a washed up old has been **now,** bitch?"

"Oh my god!" Ron gasped.

"I know," Mallory sighed. "The carpet is ruined."

"Who cares about the damn carpet?" Ron snapped. "We have two dead assassins in our house! We gotta call the cops!"

"Oh sure!" Mallory snapped. "Let's call them over and tell them that two assassins from the New York Irish Mob tried to kill us because my idiot son killed their boss and half their gang on a revenge rampage! And then I killed them to save our lives and I was able to do it with the skills I acquired from all my years as a spy and a spymaster of an illegal agency."

"Oh…" Ron blinked. "That conversation would not go well…"

"You **think**?" Mallory snapped as she took out her phone. "Great. There's a stain on my carpet already."

"Oh my God…" Ron groaned.

"You already said that," Mallory said. Then she spoke into the phone. "Krieger, where are you? Good. I need your services immediately. It's…a delicate matter. Yes, **that** kind of delicate matter. Like the Italian prime minister only two of them."

"Why am I still in this marriage?" Ron moaned.

"Yes Krieger, that's why I called **you** ," Mallory said bitterly. "Well I don't know. Disposing bodies is usually **your area** of expertise."

"Every time I think I'm out of this insanity, she pulls me **back in!"** Ron groaned.

"I don't know," Mallory frowned. "I'll ask him. Ron, is anyone in the neighborhood building a pool or some kind of housing project?"

"As a matter of fact yes," Ron said. "The Hendersons down the street are putting a pool in. The hole is all dug and the concrete guy is going to pour the cement in tomorrow morning. Oh no…"

"Oh yes!" Mallory said. "Krieger, come down here. And bring Sterling with you!"

Sometime later…

"Why did you drag **me** into this?" Archer grumbled. He was shirtless and digging a hole inside a very large hole.

"Because this is **your fault**!" Mallory snapped as she watched. "You just had to assassinate Delaney!"

"Oh I'm so sorry that I killed your mob boss boyfriend!" Archer said sarcastically. "Who was running a fake cancer drug scam that was responsible for the deaths of innocent people!"

"Again, just a weekend in Phuket," Mallory told him. "As soon as the plane landed in New York it was over."

"A weekend you **never mentioned**!" Ron snapped. He was nervously keeping lookout.

"There's a **lot** of weekends she's never mentioned, Ron," Archer said. "And why didn't you call Lana to help me on this?"

"Oh nice!" Mallory fumed. "Call the mother of your child to help you dispose of a body! Real classy Sterling!"

"You've had no problems with that in the past!" Archer protested.

"She didn't have my grandchild back then!" Mallory snapped. "Besides technically this isn't a work thing so…"

"Oh God!" Archer grumbled. "Sometimes I think lately you like Lana better than me!"

"Took you this long to figure it out, did you?" Mallory snarled.

"Will you keep your voices **down?** " Ron hissed. "Do you want to wake the whole neighborhood up?"

"Relax," Krieger walked over pulling a suitcase behind him. "I used knock out drugs to put the Hendersons to sleep. At least I think it was the Hendersons. This is their house, right?"

"Yes Krieger," Mallory nodded.

"Then they'll be out until morning," Krieger said.

"You did remember to remove the tranquilizer darts from their necks, right?" Mallory sighed.

"Oh," Krieger blinked. "Thanks for reminding me. By the way, body's in here!" He ran off, leaving the suitcase behind.

"How did he get two bodies into that little suitcase?" Ron blinked.

"Trust me Ron," Archer sighed as he dug. "You **don't** want to know. Although would it kill one of you to help me here?"

"Oh stop whining!" Mallory snapped. "You think I wanted to spend my night recreating a scene from Desperate Housewives?"

"I know what I'm starting to want!" Ron grumbled. "A break from this insane marriage."

"Keep it up Ron," Mallory snapped. "I'll give you a break **right now**! It'll be easy to throw your short little carcass in that hole!"

"Trust me Ron," Archer warned. "She'll do it."

"Well what do we do if this Delaney character comes looking for his brother?" Ron asked.

"He won't," Mallory shrugged as she took a drink from a flask. "I remember the Senior Delaney talking about him. What a disappointment he was. Well technically he was disappointed in all his sons but Patrick was the real screw up."

"And I'm guessing this trip wasn't exactly authorized by his brother," Archer said. "Which means no one is going to look for him for a while."

"Yeah but family is family," Ron pointed out. "Sooner or later **somebody's** gonna come looking for him!"

"Then we'll deal with it then," Mallory said.

"Chill out Ron," Archer said as he finished the hole. "It's best not to think about it."

Ron then ask. "Okay then what about Emily?"

"That probably wasn't even her real name," Archer said. "She was probably some contract assassin. Hey, maybe there's a bounty on her head? Why not dig her out of the suitcase and try to claim it?"

"Then they'll want to know how she **died** , idiot!" Mallory snapped. "No, we're better off just leaving them buried."

"Remind me to never go to the Henderson's pool party," Ron groaned. "Oh wait they hate us so we won't be invited anyway."

"So it's a win/win," Mallory shrugged. "Are you done yet?"

"Yes," Archer sighed as he finished. "Help me get the bag in here."

"You heard him Ron," Mallory waved.

"Why **me?"** Ron asked.

"Because you're the idiot that invited the assassins over for dinner in the **first place!"** Mallory snapped.

"She has a point Ron," Archer admitted.

"Oh fine!" Ron went to help Archer. "This is surprisingly light. Are you sure they are in here?"

"Well knowing Krieger, he probably kept some samples for himself," Archer sighed.

"I did," Krieger said as he returned.

"What kind of…?" Ron was stunned.

"Don't ask," Archer and Mallory said at the same time.

Soon they lowered the suitcase into the hole and Archer buried the evidence. "There, nobody will be the wiser," Archer let out a breath.

"I'm surprised the neighborhood watch hasn't showed up," Krieger remarked.

"Oh please," Mallory waved. "The only watch this neighborhood has is to see how big Mrs. Henderson's waistline has gotten."

"Plus we're further out from the rest of the neighborhood," Archer said. "None of the other houses are close."

"Speaking of houses," Mallory had a thought. "I wonder what's in the so-called Delmont's house?"

"At the very least we could get some extra ammo," Archer suggested.

"And they do owe me a couch," Mallory added. "And a new rug."

"Oh no, I got those stains out easy peasy," Krieger waved. "The rug is fine. The couch, not so much."

"Are you seriously thinking about robbing our neighbors?" Ron was stunned.

"Our **dead** neighbors who tried to **kill us!"** Mallory snapped. "Yes!"

"She's got a point Ron," Archer shrugged.

"Dibs on any batteries!" Krieger brightened. "And any good china. What? I can't eat off paper plates my whole life!"

"Why not?" Mallory shrugged. "It's the least I can do for the rug."

"Why don't we just grab whatever we can and divvy up the loot at the house?" Archer suggested as he grabbed his shirt as they left. "I mean your house Mother. Not the dead people's."

"Sounds fair," Mallory said. "I wonder if that bitch has any good jewelry?"

"And I used to think the people I used to run with were criminals," Ron muttered to himself. "What did I know?"


End file.
